


The Art of Sleep

by wingsdestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Gen, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsdestiel/pseuds/wingsdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has trouble adjusting to being human, and has a particularly hard time sleeping. Dean helps him with his sleep issues, and if he thinks he's being subtle, he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Cas does have some issues with nightmares in this fic, but I promise it's not angsty, it has a very fluffy, happy ending.

Falling wasn't easy. There wasn't any one thing Castiel could name that was hardest to adjust to, because it was all equally confusing and unsettling. Sam had once asked what it was like, and Castiel had told him to imagine waking up one day to find that from that point forward, you would always have to tell your body to breathe; your brain wouldn't do it for you anymore. And then he had said to imagine that you have to relearn everything you know about moving and speaking and just about everything else – all while remembering to breathe. Of course, in reality, falling was much more complicated than that.

Castiel figured it was just his luck that during the same time he was learning to cope with being human, he and Dean were also learning to cope with being… whatever they were. Well, to be fair, it was mostly Dean that needed to adjust to that particular change. Castiel had been aware of their connection for quite some time, and for him it felt perfectly natural to let their relationship progress. It felt right to him to sit right next to Dean on the couch even when there was plenty of room, to let his hand linger on Dean's shoulder after a hug, to touch him simply for the sake of touching him. He relished the moments when a stray eyelash or piece of lint would provide him the opportunity to touch Dean the way he deserved to be touched, gently and attentively. Dean did not overtly object to these touches, but he never really reacted to them, either. He received them passively (sometimes muttering a thank you, like when Castiel had brushed pollen out of his hair), and then went on with whatever he was doing, Sam watching with a half-amused expression on his face.

He tried not to let it hurt his feelings; he knew that Dean had some issues with overcompensation and probably just wasn't ready to address the shift in energy between them. But however logical that explanation was, Castiel's newly entirely human body made it impossible to keep other, more emotion-based explanations from drifting into the realm of possibility. Without his grace, he could no longer regulate his psychological processes, and that left him vulnerable to emotional fluctuations he wasn't yet equipped to cope with.

Although there wasn't any one thing that was the hardest, one of the hardest things was sleeping. Meditation was common among angels, but even its deepest states allowed for a shred of awareness that sleep could not provide. If one was meditating and sensed danger, the exercise could be broken fairly easily, whereas sleep was an entirely new level of vulnerability. Being unconscious was terrifying for Castiel. For the first few weeks, his mind fought sleep while his body craved it. Eventually, his body would win out for brief periods, and he would jerk awake, panicked, only to then remember that his grace was gone and that sleep would be the norm from then on.

The worst thing about sleeping was the nightmares, horrifically vivid replays of what he did to the Dean-copies in heaven and to the real Dean in the crypt that left him thrashing and whimpering where he slept on the couch in the bunker. Several nights in a row, Dean had shaken him awake, his eyebrows pulled together in concern, squinting in the harsh yellow light of the lamp he had turned on. "Cas, buddy," Dean had said, his voice even more gravel than usual from grogginess. "Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

The first few nights, Dean would just sit on the edge of the couch, stay with him until his breathing steadied and he stopped shaking. Then he would just plod back off to bed without a word. But on one night, when the nightmares were particularly bad, Dean woke him up, and Castiel was not only shaking but sobbing. 

Dean seemed genuinely surprised, which Castiel supposed was reasonable. He had rarely seen him cry, and even then, it was never like this. Never like a child, never out of fear and hopelessness. Dean's demeanor changed instantly, shifting towards something Castiel had only caught glimpses of before, and only when he was interacting with his brother. His facial expression softened, and if there had been any trace of annoyance at being woken up again, it was gone now, replaced by empathy and concentration.

"Hey. Hey," he said. "Look at me."

When Castiel didn't look up – out of embarrassment or something else, he wasn't sure – Dean placed a hand on his face, cupping his cheek gently, and forced his gaze up. He wiped away tears with his thumb, and Castiel was released from his misery for just a moment to delight in the feeling of Dean's callouses rubbing against his skin.

"I didn't want to push it, but… are you going to tell me what you're dreaming about?"

Castiel's stomach lurched. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to burden Dean with the truth of everything that he had done in heaven. Luckily, he remembered that Dean had taught him the art of omission. "The crypt," he managed to choke out.

Dean smirked halfheartedly. "No offense, man, but shouldn't I be the one having nightmares about that?"

"I'm sorry, I know it must have been… But believe me, I wish to take it back even more so than you. Maybe if I still had my grace, I could…" A vicious sob tore through his body. "You don't know what it's like, to hurt someone you – " He managed to catch himself before he overstepped. "– someone who trusts you."

"You kidding?" Dean said, incredulous. He pulled his hand away from Castiel's face, brushing away a few more tears, then started running his fingers through Castiel's hair, lightly pulling on the pieces that stuck up at odd angles. "We're like Team Fuck Up, Sammy and I. Hurting people that trust us is like a special talent of ours. Runs in the family."

Castiel chuckled, and Dean smiled. "C'mon." He took Castiel's hand and stood up. Castiel stared at their hands. Dean had done it so casually. Their fingers weren't interlocked, but it was still such an intimate gesture, especially for Dean, and yet he was just standing there like it was perfectly normal, like he had done it a thousand times. And though Castiel didn't want to get his hopes up, a part of him wondered if just like he had, Dean had imagined it a thousand times, and that's what had made it so easy for him to do.

"C'mon," Dean repeated. "Unless you want to stay here."

"Where are we going?" he asked, but found himself getting up to follow Dean regardless.

"My room," Dean said. "My bed's more comfortable. You might be having nightmares because the couch is so awful." He continued to hold Castiel's hand as he led him down the hall to his bedroom.

"I doubt it, Dean."

"I know, I was mostly kidding. But sometimes it helps to have someone with you. Makes you feel safer. And we can't both fit on the couch."

Dean's room was a mess, to say the least, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to care as Dean pulled him into bed. The mattress wasn't perfect, though it was admittedly much better than the lumpy couch, and Castiel's muscles relaxed in relief. The sheets were cold, but to Castiel's surprise, Dean pulled their bodies together so that one of his arms was tucked under Castiel's head and the other was draped over his side. Dean's chest was pressed to Castiel's back, and Castiel shuddered as Dean nuzzled into his hair.

"You're gonna be alright, Cas," he said, though Castiel wasn't sure who exactly he was trying to convince.

"Thanks, Dean." He paused, thinking of all the times angels had referred to humans as insignificant, prosaic organisms, and how wrong they were. "Being human is hard," he said after a few moments. "I'm sorry you're not given enough credit for it."

"I'm used to it," Dean muttered, sleepiness clearly taking its hold again. "You're like… a giant baby."

Castiel frowned. "I thought I was handling it pretty well, with the exception of the nightmares."

"No, I just meant you have to learn everything really fast."

"Oh. That's true... Dean?"

"Mmm."

"Can we have waffles for breakfast tomorrow?"

Dean laughed, and the sound filled Castiel with a kind of joy he had never really felt as an angel. Of course he had been able to feel happiness, but not to this extent (not until he had met Dean, anyway), and never on such a visceral level. For the first time since losing his grace, he didn't feel uncomfortable in his body. He was finally at ease. He vaguely recalled hearing the proverb, Laughter is the best medicine, and in that moment he understood.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "We can have waffles. Maybe Sammy will share his blueberries so we can put them in the batter. Have you had blueberry waffles yet?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can have them."

"I hate to tell you this, Dean, but even though time is much more flexible than most humans believe it to be, it will still pass at the same rate whether you are asleep or awake."

Although Castiel couldn't see Dean's face, he imagined he was rolling his eyes.

"That's not what I – Wait. You're fucking with me, aren't you."

It was Castiel's turn to laugh. "Yes, I am."

"Go to sleep, asshole," Dean muttered.

He didn't mention it to Dean the next morning, but in the last moment before falling asleep, Castiel felt the kiss that Dean pressed gently into his hair.


End file.
